


Pulling Pigtails

by rabbitxheart



Series: Fallout Drabbles and Short Stories [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Fo4 Song Prompt, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 20:17:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5941740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabbitxheart/pseuds/rabbitxheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I'm not here to be social, freak.” Danse mutters. “Don't assume my loyalties have changed simply because my past has.”<br/>“Hey, not that it matters to me, but only one of us was born human,” the ghoul drawls. “I believe that's the very definition of the pot telling the kettle it's black.” He frowns for a second, looking down at the inhaler in his hands. “Though maybe it would be more accurate for me to be the pot.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pulling Pigtails

**Author's Note:**

> Written to I Can't Decide by Scissor Sisters for the Fo4 Song Prompt thingy.

He's been to Sanctuary before, briefly in the beginning of their travels together, and he knew it had potential. Still it baffles Danse a bit when he sees the extent to which Nora has built her fort- because that's just what it's slowly turning into.

“I need to speak to Preston, I'll be right back,” Nora says as they exit their power armors in the stations she's built right at the beginning of the street. “Go grab something to eat for us, maybe? The market's in the other end of Sanctuary, you'll see it.”

“Sure,” Danse agrees, stomach already rumbling a little, also a little eager to explore the settlement.

“They know you're with me so don't worry about caps,” she says, and with that she's off to the yellow house she's told him has become the headquarters.

 

Danse has barely made it past the first house before he's accosted.

 

“Well, if it isn't the paladin himself, gracing us with his presence. Shoulda known you'd have even more circuits and metal under that armor of yours.”

Danse turns to see what he assumes is the mayor of Goodneighbor leaning against the outside wall, Jet in hand. He's heard of him, heard how he runs his town and who he allows into it, and Danse doesn't like it one bit. He also knows Nora likes him, cares about him even, so he has to rein himself in.

“I'm not here to be social, freak.” Danse mutters. “Don't assume my loyalties have changed simply because my past has.”

“Hey, not that it matters to me, but only one of us was born human,” the ghoul drawls. “I believe that's the very definition of the pot telling the kettle it's black.” He frowns for a second, looking down at the inhaler in his hands. “Though maybe it would be more accurate for me to be the pot.”

Danse just shakes his head and heads for the market, desperately hoping Nora will be quick with whatever she had to do.

  
Turns out it takes her nearly a week. Some nearby settlement with a super mutant problem, and as much as Danse wants to get on the road again, he agrees that the need of the civilians surpass his own. So Nora and Preston leave and he waits, helps Sturges with whatever he can and when Sturges runs out of things to be fixed, Piper hands him a cold beer and tells him to play cards chess with her for a while in the sun.

It feels wrong, to be relaxing like this when he should technically be patrolling the perimeter around Sanctuary.

“Relax, there are enough turrets here to replace an army.” Piper says, shuffling the deck. “I know you're used to everything being more strict, but you gotta have something you like to do just for the fun of it.”

“I like tinkering with things, I guess.”

“That why you've been helping Sturges?”

“Yeah. Usually it ends up being my powerarmor or my weapons. It's.. Relaxing is the wrong word. I just like working with my hands,” Danse shrugs.

“I, too, prefer to work with my hands,” Danse curses himself internally for not hearing him coming. “We're not so different, you and I,” Hancock muses as he slides down next to Danse, placing his own beer at the table.

“I'd break my wrist from writing all of our differences down,” Danse says, just as breezily.

“We both have strong morals,” Hancock says.

“You have _no_ morals,” Danse answers, maybe a _little_ too growly. He hears Piper swear as she gets up, leaving them. Hancock slides down further, shuffles a bit and pulls Piper's chair up so he can rest his feet on it. Danse absolutely doesn't stare as Hancock settles in like a cat in the sun.

“We both have a sweet tooth.” He says, blindly reaching for his beer.

“Yours is because you're always _high_.”

“We're both incredibly handsome.”

“Y- wait, did you just call me handsome?”

“Look at that, I wasn't sure you'd even been programmed to be able to blush,” Hancock smiles at him, crooked and eyes barely open. Something pools low in Danse's stomach and what used to be dread is-

 

No. No, no, no, _no_.

“It suits you,” Hancock adds, voice low and almost purring and Danse needs to _leave_.

“I don't have time for this,” he says, and while he doesn't run he most certainly powerwalks.

 

Nora comes back the very same evening, and they head out before anyone else is awake the next day, ready for weeks of building and recruiting settlers. 

 

“General!” Garvey greets them at the entrance of Sanctuary. “Danse. Long time, no see. Almost two months.”

“I've been at the drive-in setting up everything, I've kept myself busy,” Danse smiles. “And so have you, apparently.” What used to be barracks, ruined houses and hastily built food stands has turned into _actual_ homes, an _actual_ market, their headquarters have gained an extra floor and from what Danse can tell from here, the rest of Sanctuary has grown as well.

“Is it done?” Nora asks Garvey.

“We're a few doors short, but other than that, yeah.”

“Good job,” she says, patting his shoulder. “Come on Danse, I've got something to show you.”

 

“Remember how we were a bit low on beds last time?” Nora says as they walk up to the stairs to the newest house at the end of Sanctuary. The bottom floor has been divided in two, and from what he can tell at least one of them belongs to Garvey, judging by the clothes on the hanger outside.

“That wasn't a problem, I'm used to cramped sleeping quarters.”

“Yeah, well we finished the old houses, much of it thanks to you helping Sturges. The settlers got to pick rooms in them, Mac and Piper share one so they can bring Duncan and Nat here eventually. Anyway, we had time to finish this house, too.” She nods to one of the two rooms on the second floor. “This is yours.”

“ _Nora_.”

“We still need to find enough doors. But it's somewhere for you to stay.”

It's not just somewhere for him to stay. There's a bed, a dresser, a weapons bench with a good and bright lamp above it, a big chair in the corner with a magazine rack next to it, just waiting to be filled. There's even a cooler on the small table by it. He would have thought she'd made it for them to circulate through, the ones she wanders with from time to time, but the power armor station by the foot of the bed tells him differently.

“Are you sure? I'm not taking someone else's bed, am I?”

“No, you've all got your own rooms and beds. Preston and I sleep on the bottom floor so we're quick out in case of emergencies, Deacon and Cait are a floor up and Nick and Curie have the top floor. Oh, and Hancock's room is next to yours. It might seem very full but it's kinda rare that everyone's here at the same time,” she shrugs. “We're gonna put furniture out on the balconies too, when we find enough of 'em.”

“This is amazing,” Danse hums, picking at the things on the weapons bench.

“Glad you like it. Oh, and we've got water running in the guesthouse across from HQ, if you wanna take a bath. There's gonna be a bit of a party tonight, I think.” He looks up at her, opens his mouth to speak, but ends up yawning instead.

“I might take you up on that bath. I think an early night would be best, though.”

Nora smiles.

“Your choice. Just ask Codsworth for towels, he'll be happy to help.”

  


Danse wakes up to the sound of very familiar boots coming up the stairs. Only they don't move into the room next to his- they stop in the doorway.

“Didn't see you at the homecoming party,” Hancock drawls, swaying a little despite being propped up against the door. “Hey, what's with the stare?”

“I'm trying to figure out how to kill you,” Danse deadpans. “Maybe then you'd stop.”

“Am I really that annoying?” Hancock laughs. “Besides, bigger men have tried, and I'm obviously still here.”

“You'd probably just find a puddle of radiation and come back for revenge,” Danse agrees.

“Well, there's always _la petite morte_ ,” Hancock chuckles, eyes taking in Danse's bare torso. “I'm surprised you don't sleep in that underarmor of yours.”

“Its got metal details to-” He stops himself, pulls the cover up a bit, more to prove a point than to preserve any modesty. “Why are you doing this? Honestly?”

“Hey, maybe I'm sweet on you,” he shrugs, “and maybe this is just the proverbial pigtail pulling.”

Danse snorts and lies down on his side, stubbornly waits for Hancock to leave before he shuts his eyes again.

He almost manages to tell himself he has trouble falling asleep because of the new bed, and not because of the turmoil in his head.

  


“Do we have to?” Danse finds himself saying, to both his and Nora's surprise.

“You... you don't like it in Sanctuary?” She says, a little unsure.

“I do! I do. You've done amazingly well with what you were given, and I really like my quarters,” he assures her. “Even if I do question some inhabitants,” he adds under his breath.

“Did Mama try and spike your soup again?”

“No, it's that ghoul.”

“What, Hancock?”

“He's been... goading me.”

Nora looks at him, genuine confusion across her features.

“Are you sure? What has he been saying?”

“ _Too much_ ,” Danse settles on. “Why?”

“Because Preston told me Hancock has been convincing all of Sanctuary to give you a chance, even the ghouls.”

Danse stares at her, incredulous, and Nora nods.

“I swear. Apparently one of the settlers said something about your true origins and Hancock threatened to kick their ass, MacCready had to drag him out of there. Did you ask him why he's bothering you?” Frustrated, Danse nods.

“He keeps trying to catch me off guard. Making comments, being a general nuisance. I asked him why and he said something about pigtails.” He hears a snicker, and he glares at her.

“Oh, Danse.”

“What's so funny?”

“Sometimes the best way to tell a lie is to tell the truth, especially to people who _expect_ a lie.” She empties the last of her radstag onto his plate, full and sated. “The phrase pulling someone's pigtails comes from boys in playgrounds who'd bother girls to get their attention.”

“Why would he- Oh.” He nearly drops his plate on the ground. “ _Oh_.”

Nora pats his cheek, picks up her rifle, and leaves Danse at the mercy of his epiphanies.

 

All of the end of Sanctuary is abandoned, most of the settlers already asleep, and others cuddled up in HQ. It's Mama Murphy's birthday, apparently, and he could hear the talking out to the road as him and Nora walked past. He could barely hear her tell him good luck over all the hollering from their friends as he snuck off.

Out here though, it's quiet. So quiet that Hancock should hear Danse come up the stairs, and maybe he did, but if so, he's not showing it.

Danse pauses at the top of the stairs for a while, watching his back. Hancock's smoking, tricorn, red frock and shirt abandoned somewhere else. Danse expected the skin and bone of a feral ghoul, but looking at him now, it reminds him of one of his old superiors who'd gotten too close to a mutant with a flamer. He sees the shift of muscle, the tension in his shoulders.

 

“You were telling the truth.” Danse says when he finally tears his eyes away.

“Huh?” Hancock looks over his shoulder.

“The pigtails. Instead of lying to trick me, you told me the truth.”

Hancock regards him for a while, not in the calculating way he usually does. Just taking him in.

“Finally figured that out, huh,” he hums, turning his attention to the sunset again.

“But you _hate_ the Brotherhood.” Danse says, still unsure what Hancock wants. What this really is.

Hancock makes a frustrated noise, stubs the cigarette out.

“I do. I really do. Fucking genocidal bullshit,” he says, turning to stand in front of Danse.

“I'm not too keen on a settlement full of drugs and mercenaries either.”

“And yet here we are,” Hancock deadpans.

 

Hancock's fingers are in Danse's hair even before their lips meet, pulling him down as if Danse isn't going willingly. He's pretty sure there would have been broken noses, had Hancock actually had a nose. All of this should scare Danse shitless, should make him question his choices, but Hancock is warm and very much willing under his hands, and Danse is only human. Almost.

 

“This is incredibly complicated,” Danse says even as he's shrugging the cardigan he's wearing off his shoulders.

“I've seen worse,” Hancock says, and. Well. Danse doesn't even know if Hancock meant _something_ complicated or _someone_ complicated, and in the end it doesn't matter either, because the implication still has its effect and all resolve Danse has ever had goes straight out the window.

He picks Hancock clean off the floor, and Hancock groans like he's dying, wrapping his legs around Danse's waist.

“Someone's aggressive,” he chuckles breathlessly. “Still can't decide if you should off me or not? Is this you about to throw me off the balcony?”

“I'll show you aggressive,” Danse mutters as he walks the two of them towards his bed, but he can't really bite back his smile anymore when Hancock laughs out loud, tugging at his t-shirt.

 

“I tried,” Mama Murphy sighs. “But he wouldn't listen.”

“Mama, trying to slip Danse Mentats isn't exactly matchmaking,” Deacon shakes his head with a smile.

“You did what?!” Preston almost does a spit-take with his mac and cheese. “Mama!”

“I could have seen it comin' even without the Sight,” she says, swatting away his hand. “He didn't even see it when the Mayor told him. Had to do somethin'.”

“Wait, he told him?” Piper sits up. “I knew he's been flirting with, well _at_ , Danse, but he actually told him?”

“Found him behind the house, drunk out of his mind. Apparently he'd gone to Danse's bedroom and literally told him he had a schoolgirl crush on him and Danse had just scoffed and gone back to sleep,” MacCready says. “I've never seen him that drunk, and this is _Hancock_ we're talking about.”

“Oh, oui, poor monsieur Hancock,” Curie says, shaking her head. “I sat with him to ensure he would not be sick.”

 

Nora and Nick come walking with a case of cold beer from the market, grinning.

“I wouldn't worry about it,” she says with a grin. “Though I suggest we spend the night in Headquarters.”

“Huh?”

“We _really_ need to get doors for the rooms,” Nick says breezily. “ _Tomorrow_.”

“Aw, hell,” Sturges says, setting his plate down. “I'm not gonna be able to look Danse in the eye, Jesus.”

“Don't worry, love. We'll get our revenge.” Cait pats him on the knee.

 

“So. That happened.” Danse says, looking up at the ceiling.

“Yep.” Hancock agrees from where he's sprawled out across his chest, popping the _p_. He half expected Hancock to at least crawl out of bed for a cigarette, but he seems content where he is. “Any regrets?” he asks then, infinitely softer and.. nervous? Is Hancock _nervous_?

“I... No. No regrets,” Danse answers honestly. “Do you..?”

“Me neither." And maybe this doesn't have to be so complicated after all, Danse muses. "Though maybe we should keep the volume down a bit next time. Notice how there's nobody in the entire house but us?”

“Oh my God,” Danse says, cheeks heating up at the realization. “Oh my God, we scared them off.”

“At least Nat and Duncan are on the other side of Sanctuary.”

“Not. Helpful.” Danse grits out, trying to will the redness in his face away.

“Oh, I'll show you helpful,” Hancock says, obviously mocking, then slides in under the covers.

 


End file.
